Silent Hill 2: Restless Dreams
by Jumi- of-Diamonds
Summary: His hand's shook as his mind processed this impossibly. Shook, as his eyes recongized her handwriting, as his nose inhaled her near-forgotten aroma. James shook as he read that letter. "I'm waiting for you.." he paused, inhaling sharply, "In Silent Hill".
1. Letter in Silent Hill

With a single splash the crisp silence was shattered. The silver faucet bronzing with rust of all shades of brown let free of the water that was pushing past the metal dam that twisted tight; two knobs on each side, each containing not a difference in temperature. The water, with a metallic tang as visible as oil in water, bobbed up and down on the faucet, dancing in the darkness in consecutive movements, motions of a flower petal in the wind, dropped and with a burst of sound hit a growing patch of sickly yellowing rust; the water would held in the growth of that yellow fungus. A brother quickly formed in the place of the fallen drop of liquid and seemed to bob longer and slower; it matched the sweat drizzling down on-looking flesh. It matched patterns, mirroring each other, as both fell silently together. Water dropped into thin air, splashing over rust, some remained and coated the slowly growing fungus while the rest ran down the drain to be recycled; like in a game of 'Chutes and Ladders' or going down a slide and taking turns in a school yard.

The sweat ran down a pale cheek and swam over the chin before tickling down the neck. Each, perspiration and irrigate, were traveling downward to some unknown escape, only one making it to get a second chance. A hand, cold with sweat, came down over the trail of sweat. Wiping it away, the hand brushed down the face and neck before mirroring the other on the edge of an off white sink. Tired eyes closed as another drip echoed throughout the small enclosed room. A sigh escaping thin, stern, lips as joints and muscles were given this small, quiet, moment to relax.

James looked at himself, looked deep into his own eyes, deep into his own soul. He looked for closure, to some knowledge of recent events. He wanted to know the truth. But old broken mirrors aren't good for asking, they only reflect our questions back at us with an extra added layer of confusion.

James let his hands slip from the sink and fall to his side. His head ached from the force of thoughts, force of unobtainable reality and justice. His eyes rolled into his head as his neck arched back. James rolled his shoulders giving another sigh, although this time it was in defeat. No longer would he look into the mirror, it was too much. His eyelids opened and the sight of the rusting walls and floor of the old abandoned bathroom told himself that this wasn't a dream. He was here for a reason. Head low, eyes on the floor, James sulked to the entrance as the reason to his bathroom trip perked itself into his mind again, tearing at healing emotional wounds and scars. The reason he was forced to pull over before becoming ill from the site of that letter, the reawakening of silent voices. Voices he had erased to help ease the pain. Pain of loss. Pain of suffering.

His feet led him to a stone railing next to the remote bathroom. The bathroom seemed worse from the outside then on the inside. Papers and poster were pinned to the upper wall, moist from the incoming fog and ruined from when it would rain. They seemed to have been there for years, untouched. A It overlooked the forest, a dense fog had crept in and over the tops of the lush trees since his arrival. It was a way of welcome, he figured. Welcome home, welcome back, Welcome… to Silent Hill. Of course, James wasn't in Silent Hill directly yet, he was a ways off. The road was blocked off, which meant he wouldn't be driving, he would have to walk to get there.

James leaned on the railing, it had been along day. He was sure night would be drawing in in a few hours, but that thought only lasted on the tip of his mind for a few seconds before disappearing from all interest. Again, the spark on his mind was that damn letter. Head hung low, eyes unfocused, his hand reached under the folds of his olive green jacket. Fingers fiddled around until they reached what they were after. Paper crinkled as it was pulled from its hiding spot. The letter.

The envelope was folded in half, to make it easier to stick within the hidden pocket that was sewn on the inside of the jacket. From the backside, you could easily see the tears, it appeared as if a rabid dog had gotten a hold of it; tearing with desperation, fear, and confusion. On the front was a name, written in black ink with gentle ease and seemed full of both sadness and happiness at the very same time. The name read 'Mary'.

Unfolding the envelope, James took out the delicately folded piece of paper that lay inside. The letter was folded over itself three times and the ink had began to splotch through on letters from words, as if a hand was pressed a bit too hard when writing things that maybe caused a stir of emotion within that person.

James unfolded the letter, and instantly as his eyes met with the first word of the paper, it was almost as if he could hear her speaking. Hear her reading the letter aloud, her voice was so fresh in his mind; almost as if she were right beside him.

"_In my restless dreams, I see that town._

_Silent Hill._

_You promised you'd take me there again someday._

_But, you never did._

_Well, I'm alone there now…_

_In our 'Special Place'…_

_Waiting for you…"_

What this letter was indicating was ridiculous. There was no way, no such was possible Mary could have wrote that letter. She was dead. Dead, and gone… the disease saw to that. First it just made her weak,

"_I thought it was just a cold…"_

Then it slowly ate away at her health until she was unable to leave from her bed.

James pushed himself off the stone perch, pushed himself away from those horrible memories. His eyes landed upon the cool sea blue car he had parked not fifteen minutes ago. The driver's side door wide open, as he had made a desperate run to the bathroom to avoid leaving bile on the seat and steering wheel. He didn't get sick, not at all… in fact, he had felt much better as soon as he set foot outside of the vehicle, but something lead him into that dirty stall anyway, lead him to stare at himself full of hatred and pity. He loathed what he felt his mind was doing to him, playing tricks with imaginary words on paper. But no matter how many times he opened and closed his eyes, Mary's words never changed and they never disappeared.

James walked to the drivers seat and sat down, hands on the wheel. He wanted to drive home, forget this nonsense, but something was driving him to find the truth; it's not it would hurt to visit Silent Hill once more, well not physically anyway. James picked up the neatly folded glossy photo-printer paper that sat on the passenger's side. It was a map of the town. He and Mary had picked it up during their time they spent here together, James had stuffed it into one of the compartments of his car and forgot about it; what's to think about, when your wife is dying? Halfway during his trip he had swerved out of the way of some animal and the door had popped open, spilling out it's contents; the map on top, as if a cruel hint to what must be done, where he must go. A cruel hint by another person, God, or maybe himself? He didn't know, didn't care. If Mary was alive, he needed to take a chance, to see her; even just an illusion of her.

Taking in the comfort of the last thing that reminded him of home, he placed the map into his pants pocket and slid off the cool gray leather seat and stood, shutting the door.

_"No need in locking it, It's not like anyone is around… Doesn't feel like it matters much anyway…"_ was the last thought before he began his journey into the town full of past, happy, memories.

James walked sluggishly over to the cleverly crafted stairs, and clambered down them. The path ahead swerved over hills and turned around a lump of the forest. To the right, though, was a steep fall that seemed to lurk down forever, only the trees disproving the silly thought. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, over top of the map, and let his legs do all the work. His mind was jumping at him sharply, but he pushed all thoughts away, trying to keep a clear conscience and train of thought.

A noise caused his joints to snap tight, halting his determination and pace. It had came from his left, in the bed of the small forest coated with smoky fog. It sounded close, as if some type of animal or… person was watching him, intently, from behind the shrubs or from behind the small bushy tree leaves. But there was no movement, no motion, nothing; nothing to prove something was there, only to prove he was a bit too stressed out. That once ear deafening silence had returned, not a single chirp of a cricket or bird, nor the wisp of the wind or the rustle of leaves. Dead silence thickened in the air, it burned James's ears.

His head rose, and he looked down the path he was walking. It felt like an eternity since he first took the last step off the stairs that led down here. He looked behind him, nothing. He could no longer see were he had parked his car, or the small bathroom, only the empty endless falling of darkness to the right, and the foggy odd enticing forest to his left. Nothing, nothing, nothing. There was no turning back now, and for what reason did he have to run back to his home? None.

A lonely well sat before him, next to the darkness on the right. The darkness was beginning to fade and only that of another damp forest rose up, as if to reach for the light in the midst of the shadows. James walked up to it, a strange sense of calling from it. The pail was up and tied so not to fall down. He lay his hands upon the gray stone and black caulking, taking in the feeling sensation of dirt and noticing the cracks and bumps with his finger prints. He carefully leaned his body over the mouth of the well, peering down into it's depths. Into the depths of reality, into the depths of his mind. The water was muddy and murky, he could see that with the help of the illuminating fog over head; although it did hold the sun back from shining high. Inside, something glowed with an immense brightness, with immense evil and memory. It was glowing, the tainted red paper, in the water. Glowing like light's reflection.

It wasn't blood stained. Far too bright for that. James let his body reel down a bit more, for a closer look. And at that very instant he held his body still, his halting stop, his mind ached. It pounded against his skull. One head, instantly on a reboundish reaction, snapped forth unto his forehead, trying to grasp the pain and pluck from it's resting hold. The other gripped tighter to the caulking of the well, and pushed himself backwards, almost falling amongst the dirt path. His olive green jacket whipped wildly, as his feet stepped back, both hands now perched on his head. His hair was pushed, and pulled back in one furious attempt to dull the ache. A memory longed to sprout again from the seeds it was planted. Deep within the mind it had been placed, never to grow in the darkest location.

The headache faded fast, now that the paper was out of sight. James's hands fell to his side and his head bobbed back in relief. The shock of this was amazing, what was all that? Why would paper cause him to grow such a migraine?

"What the hell… was that?" Was unknowingly spoken out by him, to no one, not even himself.

"Mary… are you really, alive?" It was like his mind couldn't except the letter and so it kept him asking over and over again.

His feet soon guided him out of the limbo he had crossed and too a metal gate, where the fog seemed at worst behind. It looked like a graveyard, as gray stumps picked their way above the white clouds that covered the Earth. Something inside moved. It stood and walked, and then leaned under the thick white bucket of soggy fluff. The figure seemed like the stain on white fabric, standing out almost too much.

The gate did creak at all when he opened it, not at all like he imagined would be in this horror flick. He stepped forward into the fog, it spreading like servants would for a master or king, it spread outward and let him inside in. His eyes were locked onto this figure, as it once again stood and moved and crouched again. James approached it, noticing the pale off-white sweater and dark red jean fabric like pants covering all skin. Black, slightly greasy hair fell over the figure's shoulders and bounced in the silent air in front.

The figure turned it's head to look more clearly at the headstone that perched up in front of her. Female, it was a woman. James walked quicker up to her, all suspicions fading, what was he so afraid of anyway?

"Excuse me?" He said, tilting his head, letting his feet stop when she shrieked, his heart leaped from his chest in a rebound fear, he hadn't expected her to scream out like that. She backed from him, cowered until she saw who it was.

"Oh, I'm… I'm sorry! I was only, I was just-" She began to mumble in embarrassing tones. She, apologizing from her jumpy attitude at him but he cut her off with his own.

"No, it's okay. I didn't mean to scare you, Sorry about that." James said, wanting the end the fear that twisted into a knot in the once strange serenity of this place. Even with it being a graveyard there was a queer sense of pure peace, until the peace was lost in her cry for help, of fear.

"I'm kind of lost, is this the right way to… Silent Hill?" He pointed towards where the other gate was, aside from the one he entered. It was crystal clear, sparkling there in the moister left by the fog. He looked down, but quickly back up to her. He could no longer see passed her, nor above her. The two of them now seemed to be infixed within the bowls of a cube surrounded by a dying fire, smothered by the contents of a fire extinguisher… but the area, it felt hot. His flesh burned, and his face winced for a moment, until the pain quickly subsided.

"Lost?" She, the only other human he had seen since the road's exit, stood in front of him, confused by how he meant to be lost. You just couldn't be lost here, there was only one way from the graveyard to the town, and another that led back the way James had come. She snapped from the daze and put her hands hard against her thighs, as if that same sensation was effecting her now although long gone. Her face didn't make any movement to indicate pain.

"Uh… yeah. It's hard to see with this fog, but there is only one road. You can't miss it." She recovered, and fast as if everything he had just witnessed was again his imagination, just a vivid dream of what could never become reality. He quickly matched her recovery in a shun, quickly saying a low tone of 'Thank you' before turning and walking away. He didn't even say goodbye, or ask her name. All that mattered to him was getting in and out of Silent Hill with Mary by his side. That was, if she was actually there.

"But…" She spoke up, only giving him about a foot's worth of movement before turning around and answering her with a 'Yes…?'

A warning, the first of many. The first clue of the evil that would soon unfold.

"I think you'd better stay away." She looked down from his gaze, which was deeply penetrating hers, trying to find answers and truth.

"This… uh… th-this town, there is something very **_wrong _**with it." She stuttered, using her hands in both explanation and distraction.

"I'm not sure how to explain… but…" Quickly cut off, she silenced. Wrong? What could be wrong with a town…? Maybe something happened to it, since the vacation he spent here with Mary, something dangerous and deviant.

"Is it dangerous?" James was almost cut off as quickly as he had done to the female in front of him.

"Maybe… and it's just not he fog either. It-" James head shook up and down in a fast paced understanding that sent off a cold meaning. He waved his hand up at her, as if signaling her to stop. Rude, and unable to listen to reason, he just wanted to finish this.

"Okay, I understand. I'll be careful." And just with that, James turned from her, once again giving her his shoulder, the cold shoulder, and trying to walk away from her. It was like talking with a person you never liked, but they considered you a friend, and in a desperate attempt to get away, end the conversation and bud a new interest in something else. That's what James was doing, whether he realized it or not, that's how he was making this poor girl feel; both unimportant and a liar.

"I'm not lying…" She wanted to bend down, shut him away. She was used to it, but it hurt so much.

"I believe you, It's… it's just, I really don't care, if it's dangerous or not. I'm going to town. I'm looking for someone, very special to me."

It was the first time he had ever spoken with another person in a long time, and in that conversation he was going on about insanity and impossible things. Still she respected him, and shared some pain of what he felt. James clasped his head as the headache began to resurface.

"I'd do anything if I could be with her again." James spoke softer, squeezing his forehead.

"Me too, I'm looking for my mama… I mean, my mother." So quick to correct herself, when there was no need to. Mama and mother was the same. Sure 'mama' was a bit childish way, more for a kid to say, but it was nothing to correct one's self over. He ignored it, not wanting to cause her more embarrassment, not really caring.

"It's been so long since I've seen her. I thought my brother and my father were here, but I can't find them anywhere," She walked away from him this time, lost in her thoughts, her own darkness and dim light. Fighting the truth with false answers.

"Oh, I'm sorry. It's not your problem."

"No, I hope you find them." And with that, he officially walked away from her, leaving her to fade in the fog. The squeak of her voice echoed in the large confined area. She spoke sorrowfully, as if she had finally remembered something terrible. That James's very presence had caused the shock of some horrible fixation to ware off into utter horror and sadness. Something she fought against once again. The black haired girl was here for a reason, her family was here, she knew it and they would live together, happily.

That's what James had told himself, without understanding it was a view towards himself. That he would find his late wife and they could finally settle down and start a family. End this nightmare, end the truth for another, happier existence.


	2. Born from a Wish

"When I woke up… I was, all alone. Everyone's gone. Is it because of those monsters?"

"What do I do now? Do I fight and live? Or do those monster get me? I don't have any reason to go on living, but I'm scared to die. I'm so afraid of pain. Should I… run away?"

"I want to find somebody… I don't like being alone… but is there anyone left alive?"

Blue eyes sparkled as life seemed to fill them, awareness began to sink in. A female body squirmed in a rusty red cushioned chair as her back pushed up into a seating position, and no longer the crouched sleeping one she was just in. She had dosed off, dropped her guard. She felt lucky to still be alive, with all those monsters out and about, running rampage. She knew that's why she was alone now, the monsters had killed them and, she believed, took their souls to be eternally damned. She held a shiny revolver in her tiny digits, contemplating what to do with it. She couldn't remember, nothing before waking up. It was odd, frightening, to wake up alone and not remember how you got there. This is what she was experiencing.

She pushed her body up, and with a quick glance at the figure moving in exact rhythm as herself. Her mirrored figure raising with her, hips covered in a shiny, snake skin-like, pink leopard mini skirt swaying as the walked over to the blind covered window. Flesh peeked from above the skirt, and below a reddish pink blouse that was only buttoned twice over the chest. She sighed, a sigh sense of loneliness and sadness making itself know more and more with each passing second. Blonde hair, the tips painted in pink dye, brushed over the thin fabric coating her shoulders. A small pink choker charm jingled lightly as her body came to a stop, brown knee high boats resting in their pace.

She pulled the gun up in her right hand and used her left to pull apart two of the plastic blinds. Outside it was bright. Fog coated the entire town and everything was still, not a single thing made a movement. She let the blinds go, them snapping back with a snap, closing off all source of sight for the outside world. Her arms crossed onto her chest, like a way to close off the cold, but this wasn't from the chill that creeped over her shoulders and down her back. Not the cold hand of death that was resting wickedly sharp on her shoulder blade. It was the chill from the confusion of the thick grasp of loneliness. She was alone, and the only person alive, for all she knew. She could barely even remember her own name.

"Maria." It rolled of her tongue, so sensually, lustfully. Just from her voice it was quite easy to tell her profession. Just from her clothes, it was easy. Her name, it was Maria. She felt it was, of course she couldn't be sure, not being able to remember much. But… it just felt right, the name. So familiar. She lifted her right hand a stared so intently at the gun. Maria felt her gaze burn through it, so intently did see stare at it. She could use it and not deal with anymore of these feelings. So she longed, to place that gun to her head and pull the trigger and relieve herself from this Hell.

Maria held tight to the gun and walked to the door, only a foot from the window. The room she was in now was very small, and be the looks of it, it was a dressing room. A closet to the right of the window and then a simple makeup table, mirror, and chair.

Maria turned the knob attached to the door and pulled it open, stepping into the hallway. She had nothing here, in Heaven's Night, she had nothing to bring nothing to fuss over. Just herself and this gun, which might even be as useless as the rest of the items in her 'room'.

Even without remembering ever being here before, somehow she knew her way. Never once, did Maria take a wrong turn as she traveled her way down the abandoned building. Eventually making her way through the back entrance. It was pitch dark inside, the black of evil and destiny almost too overwhelming. Too unnerving.

Two flies bobbed over one of each other, revolving around like planets do. The single overhead light that was installed above the back door was the source of their flight. The bounced into it, as if to break through and reach the small glowing sun, the ball of bright energy they so wanted to devourer. A green trashcan straight across supplied even more of the insects, looking for a disposed of, scrumptious, cuisine.

Her arms were still crossed, she wondered out into the street, out of the alleyway. The smell transformed from a rubbishy smell into a very unfathomable aroma of precipitation. She could see the motion of two figures down the street, coming out of the fog. They were wobbling, bending theirs backs as they moved. The demons, the monsters. Already they were beginning to swarm at her, as if they smelled her through the rain. She raised her gun, and as her finger pulled back on the trigger something purged throughout her body and up into her mind. She knew, Maria knew, there wasn't enough ammo in the revolver. Only one bullet. Only one thing to shoot, she knew why there was only one bullet inside the gun.

Maria lowered the gun and stood. Here came the two demons straight out of hell, coming for her. They arched their backs backwards, their feet sliding forward. Their skin the color of mixed bile. The appearance of these creatures seemed like a person who had their arms locked in a straight jacket, eyes and mouth closed up with latex. It was such a horrible seen, until it turned terrifying. A purple ooze bubbled from the sealed up mouth, and as the skin lowered, showing the throat of a diseased creature. All at once the purple goop sprayed out as a liquid, allover theroad, landing only inches from Maria's feet.

As the second one began to mirror the first's movements, as it's mouth opened, she bolted down the middle of them, straight down the road onto Rendell Street. Cars lined the sides of empty sidewalks, and blood stained parts of the street. Empty sidewalks led to disturbingly empty buildings, not a light, not a motion, not a single person. The roads and houses and buildings, all empty. Everything was still and eerie.

"What is going on?" Maria asked herself.

"What am I going to do now?" She wanted to break down and cry. Nothing was working, nothing could help her. She was alone now, and cut off from the rest of the world.


	3. Something's Wrong on Vachss St

The path ahead was once again long and drawn out, reminding him that it was too late to turn back, too far from his car to drive away. He was in the town now, and all ties to the outside world had been severed. He was trotting, and jogging and sometimes walking down this alley road, deeper into the fog, deeper into hell; his own.

James panted, it was harsh deep intakes of air, as he felt like two long, grimy, hands spread their selves along his neck and tighten harder and harder with each step he took. It was overtaking, and a pain rose deep within his throat, his heart, as he took his first steps passed a crooked wooden fence, passed the noises he no longer heard, those he blocked out. The scream of an animal and the whispers of TV static; a rhythmic chainsaw echo.

The street became clear, and only then did the hands of the devil, those so tight around his neck, sink deep within himself; becoming him, the devil himself. His lungs ached, and his as his feet stood still, in the midst of the town, did he finally become relaxed to catch his breath. A magnificent view; this town. Although it would've been a perfect, homey, welcoming, view if only for this fog. This fog that seemed to be trapped. Trapped inside. James, himself, felt trapped.

The fog wasn't thick where he was at, somehow almost clearing but remaining. A light snow had also began to fall. Each flake melted as it hit the pavement or the street but it stuck and frosted the grass and trees, making them sparkle. So many things he remembered. The devil within him, that invisible demon shot stabbed at his heart as it began it's manifestation deep within him, deep within Silent Hill. It looked deep inside, and took shape within his mind. The demon that had grasped it's large bony fingers against his wind pipe flashed threw out his mind for only a second, giving itself a form before dying to the shadows of his mind, of the past in the is now retched place.

In between the waves of white mist was splotches of painted blood. The road was divided by it. James ran over to meet it, and the sick stench of death rung into his nostrils. It was fresh; a small river of it flowing to the south. Yellow lines indicating right from left lane was smeared with red life. North of the flowing puddle the blood smeared and spread, as if… something was dragged. The blood was drying fast, towards the northern end, and the southern was trying to outrun drying and cracking.

Something moved. Something shuffled, and all at once James felt vulnerable. Someone was killed, either hit by a car or, murdered… right out in the open. Were anyone could see.

"Where is everyone… anyway?" It was the question of the day. Emptiness was spread out in chucks. Not a single light was on in the buildings, not a single car sped down the street James was resting his feet upon. No one was even walking down the sidewalks. Empty.

James felt like he was in a horror movie, a zombie flick. He awaited the arrival of the first flesh hungry undead human to make it's appearance. Then he saw it. A body, shuffling down the street straight in front of him. It wobbled out of his view and seemed much quicker then the zombies on TV. It had to be human, it even appeared to be human, wounded maybe. It might even be the one responsible for the blood. Although, James wasn't sure if this figure was responsible for leaving it or making it.

The girl's warning, the girl from the cemetery, buzzed in and out of his ear's. But he only shrugged it and the uneasy feeling bestowing itself inside his gut away, continuing after the figure.

He walked through specks of fresh blood that had been left by what ever had walked away from him, wobbled and shuffled was more like it. Turning his head to the left he saw the street sign, he was on Lindsey street. Katz street was to his left, but upon further examination, James noted, the whole street was blockaded and tied off and together with crime scene tape. He wasn't very enthused to find out why, or what happened, not until he found this person; who was probably guilty of something.

The shuffling sound again, this time further north. It caused him to bolt at it, with a slim to none chance. Either he caught what ever walked away now, or he could have a great chance of losing it. He sprinted, giving all he had; pumping all energy into his legs. His green coat flapped behind him and his blonde hair quickly became thrown up into the air and pressed back by the pressure and force of the wind. James's blue eyes searched wildly through the fog, hoping for a glance of this creature, to find the direction. His feet, almost collapsing underneath of himself, slipped but quickly regained themselves; not falling. He slowed, eventually halting to a stop completely, as he came into a view a large pot-hole. More like the Earth spilt. The road to Nathan Ave. was completely caved in, spilt in half; more then jumping's reach. A lone tree had cracked during the cave in, and fallen. It created the only bridge, although it was not safe for anything over twenty pounds. The tree was flimsy and weak, not the type of tree you find in a forest, but that found in the front lawn of your neighbor.

"Did that… _person…_" James wondered, but it was quickly shoved off.

"No… couldn't be… then that means, I passed it."

James turned around, and quickly noted a very large abnormity. Footprints, most likely his, were created behind him, stopping where he had. That wasn't the 'out of the ordinary' thing, it was that the footprints were stamped with blood. He had… walked over blood? The sick torment gnawed at his gut. He had almost slipped and fallen in blood, someone's blood.

James fast-walked back. His eyes were wide and his hair had flipped down, riding past his eyes; tickling his forehead. His hands were perspiring profusely, laying at his sides, balled into fists. His knuckles were white, and the bed of nails began to dig their way threw his skin. He almost fainted himself when he saw the large pools of blood, dragging their way into Vachss street.

"What the hell is going on?" James was confused, he was scared.

Someone was lying out directions for him. He could see it. Each blood puddle was pointing into the direction he was meant to go, and it was proven by how everywhere else was blocked off; like Katz street.

James walked between the twin white and tan buildings, unknown to their use, and down the empty alley way. The fences were also, just a tad bit, strange. They had the makeup of wooden logs with the shape and color of breadsticks, but the side fencing was strictly barbed wire. Three strands that ran almost the entire, now dirt path road, road of Vachss street. At the end was a gate, half open. James pulled at it, wrapping his fingers into the fence. He tugged but it remained, stuck. He sighed, more out of frustration then exhaustion. Walking around the half opened gate he pressed himself tight against the mirroring closed one, and slowly slid himself into the area.

He looked up at the fenced gate, large and twirled with Barbed wire around the top; to stop trespassers, and noted the sign; which read: _"**Caution. Watch Speed**." _Down in the corner of the sign, written in red paint, was a S and an H together, standing for Silent Hill. It helped James realize this was indeed Silent Hill, but it just seemed like a whole other town.

A small home was to James's left, next to what appeared to be a large white milk truck that was run off the road and abandoned for years. Impossible, but that's what it seemed. A loud hissing noise echoed through out the area. It sounded like static. James instantaneously saw where it was coming from, straight ahead.

In front of him was a construction sight, which appeared to also be abandoned. Wood was hammered in all kinds of directions, in, almost, an attempt to keep something from getting out. A fence was behind the wood, blocking, again, anything from escaping one way. The fence raised all the way up to the arch, barely letting a bird in. Next to the opening, James's side, were barrels; which appeared to be full and empty. They ranged in color, but each had something similar; the unique pattern of rust eating away at the iron and metal the containers were made out of; soon, if the rust were to keep wearing away the barrels, the contents would spill over and down.

The static was not stopping, and it was beginning to ring on James's nerves. He, practically, stomped over looked down until he spotted the little noise maker. There, sitting on a pile of wood and nails was a small black pocket radio, probably just left on the wrong channel. James put his right leg inside he very small gap that was left when someone had carelessly hammered the wood together. Ducking his head, and pulling his left leg in, he stumbled to quickly regain his balance. Shaking his head, which was now full of saw dust, he realized to reason for walking in here, realized full in color.

James bent over and snatched up the small cordless radio, and played with the channels, trying to settle the static. Only, it only seemed to grow, and increase in volume. Something squirmed to his left, squirmed as it raised and began to advance on him. It's color of skin was a skin tannish brown, thousands of bluish purple veins popping out all over the body. Skin seemed to have grown over the arms, making it have a 'straight-jacket' appearance. Skin had also formed over the folds of gorged out eyes and a screaming mouth.

James backed up, truly afraid now. Never had he seen a creature, a monster like this in his entire life; till now. His right leg bumped into a loosely nailed plank of wood, knocking it free, clattering unto he ground with a rattle. James swiftly reached down and grabbed it, advancing his own attack on the beast. He slammed the plank into this creatures flesh once. The plank having a great impact as it came into contact with the monster's skull. The plank also left an indent in the flesh, spurting out pus, causing a strong odor to be emitted from the head and wound of the fiend.

Again the plank came down, this time on the neck. A lone nail, hammer to the tip of the wood, edged it's way into the skin, creating a hole of flowing pus and dark red blood; almost black. James, with great strength due to adrenaline, ripping the plank from it's neck and watched as the body feel to the ground and writhed. Twitching it's last twitch, gasping it's last blood curdling scream.

"Is it… dead?" He asked, almost too frightened, shocked to move.

"What the hell is it?" James, practically yelling, asked not expecting an answer from this lifeless form.

He held tight to the plank and, taking his eyes off the beast, exited the same way he entered; by ducking and lifting. As soon as he exited, he dropped the plank as a new wave of adrenaline was added from an awakening fear that boiled inside. The pocket radio began to static again. James forgot he had place it in his pocket before engaging in battle. He lifted it from it's containment and placed it to his ear, switching the channels about.

"Is this thing broken?" Just as he asked, words began to form through the static.

"Ja…….I'm……….e…..Come to……James…. Waiting…."

Not thinking anything of it, he put it in his pants pocket, picked up his plank, and quietly exited the same way he came. Before getting to the twin building he first passed, he did take notice of another one of those red papers. It was sitting aimlessly on a table next to empty, overturned, bottles. He didn't get a headache, but a sense of probing in the skull. As soon as he stepped back onto Lindsey street the radio came to life, awakening with loud beams of static. He didn't see them at first, but after taking a few steps south, he saw one. Another one of those straight jacket things.

He speedily ran up to it, using three sudden whacks to the abdomen and neck of the creature before it fell down dead. Another wobbled behind him, opening its mouth and spraying out a purplish ooze at him. He hardly had enough time to duck and get out of the way, most of the ooze reaching it's target; eating away at his jacket. Some had even touched his skin, instantly eating away at it; stopping after it hit another layer of flesh. Not enough must have hit him.

As the creature opened wide again, pressing its body backwards, ready to throw more of this toxic acid, James shoved the plank deep inside its throat. The nail end of the plank cut deep into the back of the monster's neck, almost penetrating all the way through. And it screamed. A loud shriek that masked even the radio's static that was slowly fading to a quiet hum.

James pulled the weapon out of its throat forcefully, giving it one last smack over the head as it feel to its knees. He lifted his boat and pressed onto the fiend's dying body twice. Blood had began to pool around the victim, staining his shoes once again. As his second kick lowered down, the first demon twitching to life.

He stopped in mid air and watched as this now weakened monster tried to escape, crawling; using its knees to shoot forward with great speed, almost dragging its front. The static was also loud again, which made him figure this radio had something to do with these monsters. Not looking back James made a run for it, down Lindsey.

The Café Texan was almost in view when he noticed something very odd down Katz street. The crime scene tape had been cut, severed from each spot it was tied to. It was as if the town was now welcoming him inside, or something was welcoming him. Although… the tape looked as if it had been cut many years ago… which just wasn't possible. Something very strange was going on in this town.

James made his way down Katz street, trying to put out of his mind that the tape hadn't cut itself. Maybe he had just looked at it wrong, when he was passing by in the first place. That monster had spooked him, and that blood.

He wasn't too surprised when he heard the radio get worked up again. This town was infested with those things… what if they were human. They came into view quick, smelling him, his fear. Their lumpy, skin covered, bodies staggering into view. If they were human… then he didn't want to kill them. Measuring the odds James ran. Picking the only alley available, closest to him; Martin Street. It was a retreat from battle, but he didn't care. This wasn't the reason he was here, in Silent Hill, anyway.

He watched as a overgrown roach circled itself, making a jingling squeak as it appeared to try and devour itself in a lust for food. James ran passed a white van ignoring the jumpy feeling, and the shriek of another one of those demons, as it crawled out from under, out onto Katz street to join the others.

"What the hell… they look like patients from a metal institute… I suppose that's a suitable name for them, Patient De-" James said uneasily, cutting himself off as he looked upon probably the only other human in this town. There, lain against the back of a greenish fence was a body of man. He laid there, next to piles of trash, soaking in his own blood. His face no longer a face to be noticed. His body, jeans and once blue T-Shirt, were smothered and dyed in red. Gore was everywhere, like he struggled even passed death… or was tossed around afterwards. Besides his body, resting in that pool, was a stained silver key. Tape was tapped to the top and the words "Apartment Gate" written in pen across it in small, fine, etches.

James picked it up, and gently rubbed most of the wet blood off onto his pants; having nothing to really clean it with. The words were very clear, even with being in a puddle of blood for what seemed hours, although the silver was now pinkish.

"Great… more sick directions… I guess this is where I am meant to go. The apartments."

James held to the key tight in his one hand and used the, now blood stained, other to pull out his map. Using the trashcans as a make-shift desk he marked the path he would take. It was only down the street from outside of this alley, down a bit more of Katz. And so he would go, and follow these directions into the depths of eternity, of his mind.


End file.
